


Efflux

by squiggly_squid



Series: Parable [16]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Reaper War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-04-18 23:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiggly_squid/pseuds/squiggly_squid
Summary: It's been years since the end of the Reaper war and the disappearance of the Vakarian war heroes from prosecution. The galaxy slowly rebuilds without them, intent to see them as war criminals thanks to the Council, but there's something coming out of the darkness once again. Garrus and Jane must save a galaxy that'd sooner see them imprisoned, but they aren't alone.





	1. Ch 1: Damocles

Blue, crystalline eyes open to take in an unknown room keep dark by heavy blinds, from the ambient lights outside to guide the way through the Virmire streets at night. Scents of sex, liquor, and smoke fill the room, but the combined smell feels just as much like home as the tang of biotics and gun oil to Damocles. It's just another pre-dawn morning for him, mind hazy from the night before and throat sore from the heavy drinking coupled with strong cigarettes he rarely let's himself have.

Sitting, Damocles looks to the other form in the bed, an asari whose name he can't remember. It doesn't quite matter because he won't be around when she wakes for any small - and awkward - small talk. He doesn't need to see her trying to stifle herself from reacting to waking up next to the Vakarian freak, the man that shouldn't biologically exist. He's seen the look and heard the stilted words enough to know it's just better if he slips out before their regret can set in.

He may be a good fuck, but he's not worth facing the morning after.

Humming at the thought and at his resulting acceptance after so many years, Damocles reaches for the half empty glass of something amber with a scent of alcohol and downs it. Let it wash away the truth.

He doesn't need the thin beams of outside light that peek through the shades to guide him, able to see in the dark thanks to his father's genetics in comparison to the blinder species. Even if the woman on the table wakes up, he's quiet enough to dress and be gone before she notices he's still here

He finds his pants at the foot of the bed and pulls them on, then shoving his feet into his tight boots. His undershirt isn't far away, the fabric taut around his broad form with nowhere near any semblance of a turian body shape. The thicker muscles make his own father's above average build look lean and wiry in comparison, and he has his mother's human genes to thank for it. Surprisingly enough, it's the one thing he isn't ashamed of, the sheer size of himself a boon on the battlefield and intimidating enough to make anyone pause.

As much as he despises the differences in his body at times of weakness, he's covered himself in sprawling images and geometric forms much like humans do. Each one means something to him, from his father's Archangel insignia, to a human shaped 'heart' for his mother, and purple chrysanthemum for Cassia - her favorite - to those whose meaning may not be obvious to anyone but himself. It's all in effort to make himself proud of his form, something his sister makes seem so natural and easy, but it's still a daily struggle not to drag a blade across those extra pieces that don't belong.

Sometimes he does, letting the pain be his outlet for the torment within.

His jacket's out in the main room of the apartment, laying over the back of a sleek black couch. Grabbing it, he slides it over his arms, but doesn't bother to close it across his chest because his first thing on his mind is to get home and shower to wash away all traces of last night. Sex is good in the moment where his blood boils and body cries for release, but he doesn't always like evidence of his night left on his hide and plates to stick around him the rest of the day. With it so strong in his own nose, he knows he smells twice as bad to any other turian around. While not always his problem whether or not he smells like sex, he's found that rumor spreads like wildfire, and any bed partner he usually has doesn't want to be haunted with their night with him as they go about their day.

Damocles slips out of the apartment complex under the still of the early morning hours. He knows there's an occasional Wraith about, not everyone living on the same time schedule as the majority of the compound, but if any of those people live here, he doesn't come across any. Just as well for him because he'd much rather not have the asari back in the apartment after him once someone able to smell and recognize her on him alerts her to just  _who_ she had spent the night with. He's had enough of those angry revelations turn back on him the morning after.

_Not like I took advantage of the assholes. They just don't want to face the facts of what they did now that the alcohol and drugs have worn off._

He exhales heavily through his nose, mandibles flicking in annoyance at the thought. Being everyone's dirty secret grates on his nerves, often making him wish he could manage to drink enough to truly block out the night, but his biotics burn the effects off faster than his partners. Everything is still glimpses, nothing but sudden flashes of jumbled images, but he knows enough that he can't just forget the very real sex he's had. The very  _willing_  partners that were so excited to take him to bed when they would very well deny the entire thing because they were intoxicated.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Damocles walks in silence with head down and mind racing no matter how much he tries to shove away the unhelpful thoughts. He's wasted years lamenting his birth, what his is, and likes to feign acceptance, but there are always doubts. He can't go back and keep his conception from ever happening and he can't just stick a gun down his throat. What would death get him now at his age?

Nothing beyond a waste of his fucking time, is what. He's twenty-two years old, and all the time he spent trying to get to a position where he  _could_ , he no longer  _wants to_. Not when he can take all he's learned, everything he's trained for, and fuck someone  _else's_ life up? What better stress relief than to go out in the universe and kill 'the bad guys' - as his mother likes to say - however he wants to, as brutally as he sees fit?

He even gets  _paid_ to do it.

_At least my looks get me shit out there. The fear I get out there is where I want it, in the eyes of every poor, fucking bastard in my way. I'm the last thing someone sees before I kill them, and being a_ _**monster** _ _just makes it better._

When he reaches the more open grounds of the more important Wraiths' homes - mainly his family's - Damocles stops and looks out over the water where the very edges of light glow on the horizon, painting the sky a lighter shade of blue from the water. A few small paddle boats rest on the smooth surface, Wraith fishermen out even earlier than himself as they start their long days. He knows there are only three large boats in the compound, ones that go into the deeper waters far out from the shore, but they leave much earlier when the sky hasn't even begun to lighten and drown out the stars.

Watching the silhouettes of fishermen move about on their small boats, Damocles wonders if he can recognize and pick out the one he actually knows. It shouldn't be too difficult considering the fact that his friend has to be the only turian stupid enough to go out to sea with nothing but a small floatation vest on. Sure,  _he_ knows how to swim well enough to be able to get back to a boat if he falls over, but a full blooded turian taking to the seas never ceases to amuse him.

Still, he can't pick his target out at this distance and he considers that maybe it's not such a bad thing. There wouldn't be much he could do from the dock but watch and he'd much rather clean off and get some food before then. Heading to the house, he kicks off his shoes on the porch to knock the sand off of later before heading inside.

He immediately hears the pounding of feet coming from the living room and huffs a laugh at Xero, his varren companion since when they were both children in their own rights. Damocles rumbles roughly, matching Xero's energetic growls and huffs, and kneels to cup the varren's head. He gives Xero's head a firm shake before smiling and scratching his talons under Xero's chin. Xero's seemingly vicious snarl is anything but as he snaps his jaws and licks at Damocles' hands.

"Alright, alright," Damocles says, growling at the slimy saliva on his palms as it strings between his finger. "You win."

Flicking his mandible at the added smell to his already unappealing scent, Damocles wipes some of the saliva on Xero's back as he stands up. If Xero knew those ulterior motives to the pet he chuffs happily over, he doesn't show it.

Damocles hears movement in the kitchen and climbs up the steps into the main area of the house from the entryway to investigate. He expects his mother or father, but finds Cassia instead, murmuring something pleasant sounding under her breath as she digs in the cabinets.

"What are you doing?" he asks, lifting a brow plate at her when she turns back to him.

Instead of answer, she makes a trilling snarl and wrinkles her nose. " _Spirits!_ " She slaps her hand over her nose and mouth. "Did you  _bathe_ in it?"

He hums and flicks his mandible out, rolling his eyes. "I'm surprised you can even recognize the smell with all the no drinking you do."

Coming over to see what she's been doing, he finds that she's made her own breakfast - if that's what it could be called. He rumbles in dubious question at the sparsely full plate of some slices of rye toast, jelly, and sliced spice meat.

"What?" She scoffs and shoves him away, making an exaggerated show of waving at the air above her plate. "And get away from my breakfast with your stink."

"Don't 'what' me." Stepping away, he watches as she grabs her plate and opens the fridge. "That looks like something kunkle will eat."

She snorts at what he knows is the memory of when they once visited kunkle and were giving some weird dish for breakfast -  _that he made them make themselves_. Cassia takes out a bottle of Tupari Lite before bumping the fridge closed with a hip as she shakes her head.

"No, it doesn't look like something we'd eat at kunkle's." She stops and looks at the plate in her hand when he gives her a skeptical buzz with his vocals. Watching her back, he grins when she tenses up and huffs. "So maybe it does look that way," she says and she turns back to him, foregoing her original plan to sit at the table and setting her breakfast on the breakfast bar instead. "Why do you even care what I eat?"

"Because I know you'll eat that and be hungry in an hour." He stands across from her, the bar between them, and plucks a slice of meat from the top of her 'meal.' She squawks at him, swatting his hand, but he merely grins as he pops the spicy slice in his mouth. "Is good."

She narrows her eyes and at and pulls her plate closer to her chest. "Ass …. Go make your own food." Picking up a slice, she stops and flutters her mandibles. "Actually, go get clean first. You stink." She chuckles and lifts the slice of jellied bread to her mouth, speaking to the contrary when she says, "It's very unappetizing."

Damocles hums and smiles as he watches her take a big bite of her breakfast despite her protests to his scent. As much as she likes to deny, she's just like him when food's involved - there being nothing that can stand in the way. When she responds with her own happy chirp as she pauses to taste the food, he snorts and shakes his head.

"Make all the noise you want," he says as he turns away to head for his room and shower, "But that's  _still not breakfast_."

"What breakfast?" Their mom walks into the room, already dressed in her clothes for the day. Shocking for how much she abhors early mornings, but Damocles is even more surprised when his dad walks dressed too.

Dad stops and Damocles watches as his nose plates shift before he gives Damocles a knowing - very  _dad_  - look. While neither of his parents have shown concern for his nights so long as he's safe, it's obvious that his dad shares the same sentiments as Cassia over the smell. It's a lucky thing mom can't smell as well as they can, because Damocles is pretty sure she'd be much more vocal about it than dad and Cass.

"Oh, Jesus," mom says as she waves a hand in front of her face once she passes Damocles. Apparently, he stinks enough to get her attention, which usually means he got something on his clothes too. "Damo, you smell like shit. Hurry up and shower."

"Hurry?" Cass sets down her bottle of lightly colored Tupari and trills in curiosity. "Why hurry?"

Mom starts to make herself a cup of tea, clicking on the heating unit to boil some water for her mug. Dad answers instead as he walks to the fridge and fetches a bottle of water. "The  _Normandy's_ still needing some work, so we're taking the  _Revenant_ to Tuchanka."

The  _Revenant_. The Wraith-designed big sister to the  _Normandy_ hidden in plain sight under the guise of a turian cruiser. She lacked the high speed of the  _Normandy_ , but made up for it with a heavier arsenal. Both could slip in and out of enemy detection with their specialized drive cores, and thanks to EDI's blueprints and Liara's Shadow Broker information, the two stealth sisters were better than anything the Alliance or Hierarchy has made to replace the  _Normandy_ Damocles' parents took with them into obscurity.

This trip to Tuchanka to visit their krogan family was to be the  _Revenant's_  maiden voyage. Damocles knows it's mostly to show off on his parent's part, but he can't blame them when making the  _Revenant_ had been their initial idea. He can only imagine Wrex's face when the sleek, jet black ship slices through Tuchanka's atmosphere and lands right on his doorstep. If he thought the  _Normandy's_ black repaint made it intimidating, then Damocles is willing to bet adding a cruiser's size into the mix will convince any other krogan from getting the smart idea to fuck with the Vakarians on their first return to Tuchanka since Orkamor Urik nearly killed Damocles and his sister.

He's also pretty sure dad and uncle Wrex have a kind of pissing contest going on about who has the most impressive ship ever since Tuchanka started buying shipwrecks left from the war and repairing them. That, or mom is the one competing with the older krogan. Damocles wouldn't put it past either of his parents, and can't blame them for being proud and wanting to show off the  _Revenant_ after it being made in secret for years.

Cass whines and sets her elbow on the counter, dropping her chin in her palm as she frowns. "But I was going to spend the day at the markets with my friends." Her eyes widen and she sits up straight, grinning as she looks to him. "And Damo was going to hang out with Aeson! Right?" she asks, making it obvious that she wants him to back her up.

He nods, not seeing why she feels the need to convince him because she isn't lying. Damocles really did have plans to watch a pirated version of the newest  _Scarlet Sun and Cobalt Blood_ , the popular crime drama only showing on the Citadel. Luckily for them, control of media is so lack on the Citadel thanks to most efforts at policing going towards monitoring station repair efforts from looters or citizens still angered from the war losses.

It's been so many years, but so many are still trying to repair what's left - or giving up completely to build anew - and Damocles thanks his parents for just getting away and building on a completely new slate here on Virmire. Sure, they had the occasional pirate gang or organization trying to stake a claim on the planet come into Wraith territory, but anyone stupid enough not to turn away immediately at the sight of the Wraith's makeshift fleet didn't last very long when they refused to head warning communications.

Dad rumbles apologetically and leans a hip back against the opposite counter. "I know. And I'm sorry, but we had received an interesting bit of information from our armory R&D team about a possible manufacturer of armors and weapons. If we can convince them into doing business, the team can work on enhancements and mods for the new equipment."

Cassia, seemingly interested, lifts a brow plate as she looks between their parents. "What makes you think they'll agree to work under the table?"

"Liara has some information that the head might still be sympathetic to  _two grand war heroes_ ," mom says wistfully into her mug, feigning awe before sighing as she dabs the tea bag into the steaming water. "She seems to think that they'll at least talk to us without alerting someone to come arrest us on sight."

Humming, dad nods and stands up from the counter. "We can talk about this on the  _Normandy._  Damocles, go get clean and give yourself enough time to talk with Aeson about the unexpected leave."

"I still don't know why we have to go so early," Cass protests weakly, tapping a talon tip on the edge of her plate. "Can't we wait until when we  _said_ we'd leave?"

"Because," mom answers, turning back to mirror dad as she leans a hip back against the counter. Holding the mug between her two hands, she blows over the top of it's surface before speaking again. "We want to speak with this company before we have to be on Tuchanka by your cousin's Rite."

Damocles doesn't mind the early leave. He's frustrated over having to change his plans - sure - but he can always set up a comm-link with Aeson to watch their show. Cass, however, hates using comms with her friends. She'll use them when she has no other choice, but she's an exact opposite to Damocles when it comes to time out walking the commercial district of the compound with friends. He'd much rather leave her to get out in the crowds while he stays close to home, keeping himself and Aeson company without having to dive into the claustrophobic areas where everyone flocks to.

Despite her protests, Cass doesn't push on the matter. She probably knows that more time lamenting the fact takes away from the short time she can spend speaking with said friends. Damocles leaves before he can really hear the exacts of the new conversation in the kitchen, heading upstairs to get clean before he has to contact Aeson about the disappointing change of plans.

His things are already packed from earlier in the week when he had set out things for when they had actually scheduled this trip. He just needs to shove in another outfit or so before he carries the bag downstairs once he's done with his shower and dressed. Mom and dad are already working with two other Wraiths to pack up what's already packed and set out by the door onto sand buggies, saving them the effort of having to carrying their heavy equipment across the beach to  _Normandy_ and  _Revenant's_ private dock.

Dropping his bag on the top of the loaded cart, Damocles walks out onto the porch and watches as dad guides everyone on where and how to stack their things in the most efficient manner. It's so very much like dad that Damocles isn't even surprised to see the hint of exasperation on mom's face when dad tells her to move something she's thrown haphazardly on the pile. Still, he chuckles at his mom's frustrated swearing when dad gives up on giving directions and moves items as he pleases.

Damocles shoves his feet into his boots left out on the porch and the sound attracts Xero's attention from where he's being very unhelpful in the packing by getting in everyone's way. The big varren gallops over and takes that steps two at a time as he skids to a stop before Damocles, dense chest bumping Damocles' shins.

"Want to go with me to the docks?" Damocles asks, though he knows Xero will go wherever Damocles does if there isn't a door to block his path or command to stay given. Rumbling, Damocles rubs the varren's head before scratching his talons behind the first thin spike on Xero's head. "Come on. Hopefully, Aeson isn't out yet."

Dad gives a nod in greeting as Damocles leaves them all to their packing and turns towards the beach. A paved road leads from the private homes and into the compound, branching one direction to travel deeper into the Wraith 'city' and another towards the public docks. He takes the less populated path for this time of day, glad that the morning is still so young that so many people wouldn't imagine going to the beach. There's the occasional runner that passes, but Damocles and Xero are alone for the most part on their walk to the docks.

By some luck, it seems that either Aeson is late to work or has returned to the docks for some reason. Damocles chuckles himself as he watches his smaller friend messing with a net that seems to be tangled for a moment before dropping his arms with an obvious huff.

"Need help?" he asks as he comes up on Aeson grumbling in frustration over the net. "Did you forget to use your fancy rolling thing for it?"

Aeson chuffs through his nose and flaps his mandibles once against his jaw with a click. "My other one has a large slice in the center, so I have to use this one." He turns and holds out some of the net to Damocles and the larger turian takes it, holding it as Aeson takes the bottom end and steps back so they can work at untangling it. "I'm starting to think someone sabotaged it."

Damocles growls, hands clenching around the rope of the net for a moment until Aeson jerks it to get it attention. Sighing, Damocles relaxes his hold on the net so his friend can work. "You know how much I fucking hate assholes like that. This is, what, the fifth time someone's sabotaged your gear?"

Aeson shrugs and Damocles can't understand how his does it, how the smaller man just accept the fact that others don't like him. Damocles has a suspicion that it's because of Aeson's success at his age that the other fishermen try to ruin his gear, but there's always the other possibility that some turians - usually the younger bastards that haven't learned what a good beating is - that still use Aeson's family heritage against him.

It isn't easy being the Primarch's nephew on one side and the son of a scarred traitor on the other. Not to mention Aeson's smaller stature and shimmering golden color that stands out just as much as Damocles' larger size and too many digits.

Apparently noticing his irritation, Aeson tugs the net out of Damocles' hands as he rolls it up on a small barrel he's turned into a piece of useful equipment to save himself time out on the water in his small boat. Damocles hums and flicks his mandibles in effort to wash away his anger, but Aeson doesn't acknowledge it as he continues to pack his small boat. It takes a bit of time, but Damocles' blood begins to cool as he watches his friend work, laying out rods, a large tackle box, and three cage traps.

"How can you go out there without any fear?" Damocles asks, still astounded that his friend had the idiotic idea to be the only turian out on the ocean trying to fish. "You're going to get yourself killed if you go over."

Aeson rumbles in amusement, standing up straight and patting a thin vest that loops over his shoulders and down his chest. "I have a floatation vest."

"That thing is tiny, Aeson. I doubt it can keep you above water."

His friend snorts and plays with a handle connected to the side of the vest. "It's inflatable. Just pull this and out it comes." Shrugging, he chuckles. "I'd show you, but then I'd have to waste even more time trying to fold deflate it and get it back down."

Damocles buzzes at the logic, even if it still seems like Aeson's putting too much faith on it. He can't even float on his own, for fuck's sake. Exhaling heavily through his nose, he lifts his head to the sky before lowering it and shaking his head. "You don't even eat anything you catch. It's all levo."

"Yeah, but I can sell it,  _then_ buy something I can eat. You wouldn't believe how many credits I can get with  _one lockjaw_." He looks up at Damocles, as if expecting a reaction. "A lockjaw, Damo." He huffs a laugh. "It's a type of fish that's really rare to catch. Let's put it that way." He looks around before leaning closer and Damocles lowers his head as if to hear when Aeson mock whispers. "And I know just how to catch them."

Damocles hums, knowing he should be impressed. He is, of course, but he doesn't really know anything to compare catching whatever the hell a lockjaw is with. When Aeson gives him a look of annoyance, clearly reading the lack of understanding.

"Sorry," Damocles admits, chuckling as he grins. "I have no idea what that fish is, what the hell is so special about it, or what I should compare catching it to." He lays a hand on Aeson's shoulder. "But I'm impressed?"

Aeson flicks a mandible in a turian equivalent to an eye roll as he huffs. "Alright, alright." Smiling though he just acted offended, he motions his boat. "I don't know how much I'll catch being so late into the water, though."

Damocles grunts at the reminder that someone fucked Aeson over from getting a good enough haul to make some credits, he steps back and offers a hand to help his friend into the bobbing boat. "So," he says, the hesitation easily picked up on by Aeson as the younger turian rumbles in question. Damocles trills apologetically and smiles weakly. "I have to head out earlier than planned. Mom and dad decided to take the  _Revenant_ instead and they have some plan to meet with an armor and weapons manufacturer before we get to Tuchanka."

Aeson's expression falls. "Really?" He sighs when Damocles nods. "Well, that sucks …." Pausing as he settles himself down in the boat, he hums and grins as he seems to have an idea. "What about you ping me later tonight and we stream? I'm sure the  _Revenant_ has something as equally unhealthy as my place."

Damocles snorts and chuckles as he kneels down to untie Aeson's boat. "It better. Or I'm taking a shuttle all the way back here."

Aeson laughs and catches the rope once Damocles tosses it over to him. Pushing his friend off from the dock, Damocles stands and smiles to Aeson grabbing the oar to paddle out into the water. "I'll keep Virmire standard time and comm you, then." Aeson gives him a nod as he swings his boat around and towards the deeper waters. Damocles watches his friend as the small boat glides across the soft waves before turning to Xero. "Let's get back before mom decides to strangle dad."


	2. Ch 2: Jane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Guests Aurelius Naxxus and Gwen Malolin are characters of the lovely [Wafflesrock](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223870/chapters/35367318) from her Ring of Fire series. I highly recommend you head over there and read her work.

When Jane wakes, the bed is unsurprisingly empty save for herself when she reaches over to the other side. Any shock of being alone has long since dwindled away, it more uncommon to have Garrus slept in that not. It's just something left from the war, maybe even his days alone on Omega. Just like her own ceaseless nightmares, her husband's PTSD leaves him with his own mental scars that manifest in his inability to sleep even the short amount of time  _a turian_ needs over the long period of unconsciousness he adapted to thanks to having a lazy - by comparison - human wife.

_Damn insomniac._

Sighing, Jane drags her hand across the bed and to her chest. She knows it's time to get the hell up and get ready for their arrival on Eden Prime. Their intent on the - once again - rebuilt colony pertains to a hope that they can obtain and set up a deal on behalf of the Wraiths with an armor and weapons supplier that's made it's home here, Spiritus Sol Armory. Specializing in, though not limited to, turian and human equipment, a contract with Spiritus Sol for large orders of equipment could work in the Wraiths' favor both in overall price and the possibility of 'convincing' the company to agree to a delivery situation that could end up looking pretty damn shady.

Jane doesn't have to be all that business savvy to understand and agree with Arcanus and Garrus when the topic of keeping isolated and protecting their own and the Wraiths' location from the rest of the Galaxy. Much like their smaller equipment purchases, they plan to set up a chain of transfers among their own people, starting from a designated delivery location given to their third party supplier, followed by a series of trade offs among various Wraith ships or stationed personnel before finally reaching Virmire. So far, they've successfully kept any kind of authority's investigation from following the twisting path they leave can't completely mask despite their best efforts, but it doesn't hurt to be even more cautious.

Now they have the task of convincing the head of Spiritus Sol Armory that delivering large amounts of equipment to a representative instead of directly to a warehouse or distribution facility. The task seems an awful lot like something Arcanus should be doing, but it's not like Jane doesn't completely trust in her mate's ability to come up with a good enough explanation to assuage their worries. Garrus' proven himself perfectly capable of lying through his razor sharp teeth before.

Maybe the fact that Spiritus Sol's founder and CEO, Gwen Malolin, is more than a body behind a desk will pay to their benefit. It's not really much of a secret that the woman is bonded with - or at least married to - a famous biotic and turian general that made his name during both a turian civil and the Reaper wars. Their relationship obviously paid a part in the development armor meant for both biotic usage and front line combat, a quality not many armors possess, especially for turians. Other Spiritus Sol equipment is just as highly recommended, but not many companies can boast having paid just as much attention to biotics as they did more common users. The fact hits home well enough with the twins that she was more than ready to go in place of Arcanus, even if it presented the possibility that she and Garrus could be recognized.

If Mrs. Malolin is as privy to her husband's positional duties as she was claimed to be during the turian civil conflict on Taetrus, then perhaps she can understand that shit orders can come down from the top. Whether or not someone chooses to follow those orders, they would still understand that superiors don't always think about the consequences for their men, for the ones actually getting down in the shit and doing the hard work. General Malolin may still be part of the Hierarchy military, but Jane has a feeling he isn't one to see the things she and her husband has seen and follow the order to just turn a blind eye to it. Malolin may follow Hierarchy orders, but he'd have to be an idiot to put himself in their shoes and just bend over and take it from the Council, in being their scapegoat.

That, and Jane's pretty sure the man could understand doing anything to keep his children safe, even if it means becoming criminals in the galaxy's eyes.

Jane sits up and checks her omni-tool for the time even though she knows Garrus wouldn't have let her sleep too late to interfere with their appointment. She closes her tool, yawning as she gets to her feet and tosses her hair with a hand. Heading for the bathroom, she goes about her morning routine and uses a brush, some hair product, and pins to tame the mess before walking back out into the main room of their - too - large cabin. She and Garrus don't need all the space, but it seemed like something the crew purposely added to the design when they found out the Revenant could very well be their go-to ship. For what reason, she doesn't know, but she has an idea that is has to do with their standing at the top of the Wraiths company and some sort of show of appreciation.

That, or they all feared pissing off the bosses. If they did, then their engineers were idiots. They wouldn't win Jane and Garrus over with a mansion of a quarters, not when loyalty meant so much more. A big cabin didn't mean shit when there was a risk of getting shot in the back, especially with the high bounty on hers and her mate's heads waiting to be claimed.

Putting on the black, pencil skirt dress she brought from Virmire for this meeting, Jane slaps some quick makeup on and gives herself one last look before. Her appearance passes inspection at least to her eyes and she finally slips on her heels on her way out the door in search of her mate. He's not immediately around the deck reserved specifically for her family and a handful of important - though not frequent - guests. She hasn't been in the twin's rooms, but she's pretty sure they range between her own and the guest cabins' size.

She takes the lift down to the Crew Deck and only location on the ship not directly related to work, consisting of the Mess, Medbay, and crew quarters and added amenities. If all else fails and she doesn't find them around that deck, she can always comm them. She'd really rather not walk through the entire ship in search of them if she didn't have to. The Revenant had much larger - and more - decks than the Normandy and Jane still didn't completely know the ship well enough not to get lost, wasting the time she could be spending getting prepared for the meeting with Spirits Sol Armory. Luckily, she finds her family all in the mostly empty Mess. Jane knows it won't remain empty once the ship completes her maiden voyage and actually faces real use, but for now, the quiet is nice and reminds her of the laid back feel of the Normandy.

"There you are!" She calls out as she approaches their chosen table closer to the galley access - and where Damocles must be by his absence - seeing that Garrus has already gotten dressed in his own suit alongside Cassia in her much more laid back, casual dress.

"Hi, mommy," Cassia says as she lowers her hand holding a book and smiles. She seems to be eating something that, to Jane, looks a bit like an off blue porridge with pieces of fruit, both levo and dextro.

"Hey, Princess," Jane responds as she comes up behind her husband, mandibles deep in a datapad, and wraps her arms around his shoulders. Laying her cheek on his crest, she makes a long suffering sound. "That must be pretty interesting."

Garrus chuckles and shifts to lay his free hand on her arms, a soft thrum sending vibrations through her wherever their bodies touch. "It's the newest Fornax issue."

Snorting, she lifts her head to kiss the top of his head and glance down at the datapad to see if he really is reading porn. Lines of text filling the screen isn't something Fornax is known for - the exact  _opposite_ , actually - and she huffs a laugh. "Have Fornax for the articles, I see. I had no idea word were so damn sexy for you."

He finally sets the datapad down and shifts his head, making her step back and climb into the seat next to him. "It's a report from our information sector," he explains, offering the datapad to her, but she holds up a hand, not really feeling like reading a bunch of shit she probably wouldn't even understand. "It's about the Leviathan."

Jane blinks in surprise, brows lifting. "The Leviathan? Seriously?"

Humming, he nods before his gaze moves over towards Damocles, tray piled high with food and upsettingly not dressed in his usual spiked, leather jacket. Jane's expression shifts, skeptical of her son's definition of 'dress nice and professional.' She glances towards Garrus and her mate shrugs with a bemused grin.

_At least he covered the tattoos._

"Uh, Damo?" She leans her elbows on the table, clasping her hands as she watches her son sit and start to dig in. "I doubt your outfit fits into the 'professional' category."

Damocles snorts, the sound an awful lot like a scoff, and tips his head back to swallow. "I know." He huffs and flicks his mandible at her critical hum. "I don't need to be there to make a deal and it's more intimidating with four people." He shrugs. "I can just wait outside. I'm still close enough to kick someone's ass if it all goes wrong, but I'm not bored."

Garrus chuckles softly and glances towards Jane. "I've already had this discussion, but you have to admit him being there might give off the wrong intentions."

"Because he's such a brute," Cassia whispers loudly, smirking teasingly at her brother from above her book. Damocles flicks his mandible in mock annoyance before flicking a piece of food in her direction. She makes a loud, high squawking noise and nearly falls out of her seat, swatting him with her hand. "Jerk!"

Snorting softly, Jane looks to her mate and shakes her head, grinning in exasperation at just how much the twins still act like little shits to each other. She wouldn't want it any other way and loves how easy it is for the two to playfully harass each other even after all the hell they've been through as kids. It's just something she nor Garrus could teach them as parents but something they had to learn on their own, though she knows having each other helped.

Ignoring the two children light heartedly bickering across the table, Garrus turns to Jane. "Remember how I asked Arcanus to have an eye out for anything about the war?" When she nods, he hums and glances at the datapad. "Most things are pretty straight-forward except for the Leviathan. With our research and some help from Liara, the information sector has put together a large collection of data that either directly links to the Leviathan or is suspected to."

"What  _exactly_  did they find? Something we should be concerned about?"

"That's the thing. Most is just something we can't really do much about but keep an eye on it." His face tenses as he pulls his mandibles in towards his chin, as if upset over what he has to say. "Remember the T-GES Mineral Works personnel? We've kept track of them, I was curious." Exhaling a heavy breath, he grabs the datapad and accesses the data. "Some are showing some disturbing signs. At first, I thought it might just be coincidence, but it was crossing species barriers, affecting multiple age groups. Jane," he says, eyes rising to hers, "They're dying …. Their brains are dying."

"Dying …," She trails off, seeing that the twins have stopped to listen in. "Like some kind of dementia or something?"

"That's a way of putting it, yeah. Only it doesn't stop at memory," Garrus explains, scrolling through the data. "Many doctors all over the galaxy are all coming to the same conclusion without even knowing of the connection, 'neural decay.' They aren't just losing their memories, they're falling into a coma before dying, their brains just …  _forgetting_ how to function, how to keep their body alive. There are too many to count, all coming from Mahavid."

Jane chews on her lip, trying to find any other reason than the fucking  _Leviathan_  causing this. He's right, it can't be mere coincidence that all these people from all species share the same story … and end.

"Could it have just been something on the asteroid?" A long shot, but she has to ask. If only to make herself feel better, more in control.

"Doubtful." Garrus shakes his head once. "Mining was stopped on the asteroid because of the Leviathan. Everyone enthralled on that asteroid sued T-GES, won too. I guess it's pretty easy to expect juries to agree with someone who lost ten years of their life and not have enough evidence on whatever mysterious artifact that did it."

Damocles rumbles curiously around his food. "Council hid the Leviathan?"

The way he asks makes it obvious that he knows the answer, but Garrus still nods with a disappointed sounding hum. "It's safe to say."

"Or at least the Alliance kept it a secret," Jane says, remembering that it wasn't Council led forces that distributed the orbs across the battlefields, but teams coming from multiple species under Alliance command. "We  _told_ them to leave the Leviathan the fuck alone-"

"But they didn't listen," Damocles says before swallowing, growling, "Just like always."

Jane sighs and nods. "Yeah. They didn't"

Her husband hums beside her, nudging her side to get her attention. When she looks to him, he tilts his head towards the galley. "You should grab something quick to eat before we head to Spiritus Sol."

Nodding again, she pushes herself up and leans over to kiss the plating at his temple before accepting a real one when he turns his head towards her. "I should probably eat on the ride over there. I'm sure I can keep from spilling food on myself." She grins at her mate's snort and pats her hand on his shoulder as she starts towards the galley. "And if not, then that's what the black dress is for," she adds as she turns back to her family and motions her outfit.

* * *

The buildings within Spiritus Sol obviously take inspiration from both turian and human architecture, with its sharp angles combines with an organic design. Metal and stone create a visually appealing representation of the two species and it makes Jane wonder what the buildings across the galaxy now look like after so many species worked together to rebuild. She knows that many species stayed at the final destination of their posting during the war while others left their homeworlds to explore new places as if nearly dying inspired them to get off their asses. Perhaps cooperation in rebuilding has left planets more like melting pots than an isolated people.

She thought it a good idea to mix their species, but knows there will always be division. Even Virmire has set groups even though the lines are very blurred. Part of her knows that unification is the best choice for the galaxy, a fantastical show of optimistic thought, but another part of her sees that there must always be a distinction between people. The galaxy cannot suffer uniformity or they'd be no better than what the Reapers had planned all along, husks following one mind. It's why she enjoys the diversity among the Wraiths, supports it, and urges people to walk that line between discord and assimilation.

Mrs. Malolin's office is located in the administration building, at the very top of the six level tower. Damocles chooses to stay down in the courtyard of the plaza, lounging on a bench as he plays some videogame on his omni-tool, but Cassia joins Jane and Garrus.

The lobby of the massive building has floors of stone, colors of silver and slate swirling in a sea of what looks like granite. A set of desks sit around the perimeter with a single, round receptionist counter in the center where two humans, one male and one female, look up and smile at Jane's approach.

"Welcome, ma'am," the male says, eyes fluttering over her and her family as he gives Garrus and Cassia that same false smile. "Can I help you?"

"We're here to see Mrs. Malolin." Jane turns to her mate as he steps up to the counter beside her, handing over a datapad that contains their credentials and approval for access to the upper floor of the building.

"We're three instead of four," he says with a light rumble, playing into the same pleasantry. "The fourth decided to stay down in the courtyard."

"Very well, sir." The woman says as she takes the datapad, it lighting up in her hand as she scrolls through all the legal jargon. "Yes. I see." Lifting her gaze, she smiles at Garrus before glancing towards Jane, then Cassia behind them. "Shall we expect your fourth to join at a later time?"

"No," Jane says, shaking her head once and offering the same smile back to the two receptionists. "He's not one to change his mind so he won't be coming up looking for us."

Both receptionists nod as the woman sets the datapad down to her right. "I understand, ma'am. I'll let Mrs. Malolin's assistant know you'll be arriving shortly. The lifts," she says, motioning the far back wall of the lobby behind her, "are just behind me and will take you to the top floor. Thank you for choosing Spiritus Sol Armory."

Jane gives her husband an exasperated look. It was his and Arcanus' idea to come here in person, but they had to have known she absolutely abhors putting on a show. This place was all about the show and she can't help the long sigh and slump of her shoulders once the doors to the glass elevators close. She leans back against the side railing of the lift and looks out of glass that overlooks the sprawling hillside that stretches out towards Eden Prime's pristine suburban district.

She has to admit, the colony has cleaned up well and made a new name for itself, but it still feels strange coming back to the place. Seeing it at its worst -  _multiple times_  - leaves her with a certain image of the colony and its people. It's not easy to see the good that can come from Eden Prime and the fact that she's more used the place looking like hell leaves her with a hollow feeling in her chest. What kind of person would look at a thriving colony and be more accustomed to seeing it in flames than it covered in life?

"This colony is huge," Cassia says, pulling Jane's attention away from her thoughts. "And so beautiful."

Jane glances to her husband and huffs a weak breath, knowing full well that their daughter is too damn observant for them. It's not necessarily a bad thing, and reminds Jane of what they fought for in the first place during the war. Even if they've taken to living on Virmire away from the galaxy, she and Garrus fought to give their children the chance to get out and see the galaxy for the good it can be. If there was anything she would have chosen to give them, it'd be the hope that people can persist and rebuild.

"It sure is." Garrus hums and steps up to stand beside Cassia, looking out at the colony through the crystal clear glass. "It's always been a symbol for humanity, but I have to admit I like it better seeing all the cooperation between species." He huffs a laugh and looks to Jane, smiling softly. "Did you know that turians here have even taken up a newly designed colony insignia for Eden Prime?"

"Really?" Jane lifts a brow and stands up straight, sweeping her gaze over the colony even though she knows full well that she wouldn't be able to see any new paints unless it was right in front of her. That, and she wouldn't even recognize it anyways.

"Yeah," he nods and adds, "Ever since the war, turians have petitioned the Hierarchy to accept colony insignias representing non-turian colonies and planets. They aren't as expansive and usually have a single design for an entire planet or colony as opposed to the many in Hierarchy space, but they're still recognized by Hierarchy law now." He shrugs and rumbles, the sound soft and pleased at the supposed idea of his people accepting the interspecies idea. "No doubt Victus had a lot to do with it. Still, I guess it's a show of just how much has changed since the war."

Cassia purrs and smiles, nodding happily as the lift slows. "It's nice to know that people don't have to feel obligated to live in their people's space just to feel accepted."

"That, and it doesn't hurt to know one species isn't kicking out another even after rebuilding." Jane chuckles and shrugs when they all turn to the doors in anticipation. "Shame it took a fucking war to end the galaxy before people learned the concept of inclusivity. Humans especially." Jane snorts and shrugs when Cassia looks to her. "Humans are bigoted by nature. More so being so new to the galaxy."

Cassia is quiet as she considers that, but neither can speak further about it as the doors to the elevator slide open to a small hall with a long wall of glass just before them that leads into what must be the Mrs. Malolin's assistant's office. Garrus leads the way in, holding the glass door for Jane and their daughter, and a young human woman glances up from her terminal. Smiling, she tucks a strand of her straight black hair behind her ear and stands, rounding her desk.

"Greetings, Mr. and Mrs. Vakarian. My name is Isabelle," she greets, offering a hand to Jane and dipping her head in greeting to Cassia and Garrus. "Mrs. Malolin is expecting you." She holds out a hand towards the far wall covered, a large wooden door set in the center. "Right this way, please."

Jane gives her mate a final glance as he steps to her side. He nods, confidence radiating off of him, and she gives him an amused smile. Good to know one of them has any clue how to set up a deal with what could be the best opportunity in supplying the Wraiths with equipment. While they weren't really in dire need, the cost to manufacture their own weapons and armor or acquire it through regular licensing was much higher than what was planned for the Spiritus Sol contract.

Isabelle knocks twice on the large mahogany doors before pushing them both open and addressing her boss. "Mrs. Malolin?" she says as she steps in and aside to give Jane and her family room. "The Vakarians are here to speak with you."

The office is large and open, a window looking over the Spiritus Sol plaza on the far wall and bookshelves to the left. On the right is a set of cabinets with what look like various knick knacks and many photos of what must be Mrs. Malolin's family, friends, and other things Jane suspects from seeing on so many vids of big, fancy CEO offices. A set of couches create a small seating area around Mrs. Malolin's personal effects, but the woman herself stands from a large, wrap around desk further within the room, cutting off whatever conversation she must have been having with the only other occupant of the room, a chocolate colored turian with red stripes along his chin and mandibles in a Spiritus Sol set of light armor.

"Thank you, Isabelle. That'll be all," Mrs. Malolin says as she stands and smooths down the skirt of her stylish dress suit. She gives Jane and her family that same professional smile everyone in this building seems to have mastered as she rounds her desk and approaches, her guard - there's no doubt of that - follows behind. "Mrs. and Mr. Vakarian, Gwen Malolin," she greets, offering a hand to Jane and nodding her head in a more turian greeting to Garrus and Cassia to which they respond in kind. "This is Aurelius Naxxus." She motions the turian, the man the same height as Jane's own husband. "He'll be joining us today."

"You'd expect otherwise." Jane offers a dip of her head to him and turns to introduce her daughter. "This is our daughter Cassia." She smile when her daughter clasps her hands and gives a polite dip of her head to both.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Cassia says before looking around the office. "You have a beautiful office."

"Thank you." Mrs. Malolin steps back and motions the comfortable looking seats before her desk. "Please, take a seat."

Jane and Garrus follow her and her turian guard as they lead back to the desk, all intent on starting the big conversation of a reputable company dealing with mercenaries. Jane has to admit that the chairs are quite comfy as she sits, though a bit large, most likely meant to be used by human and bigger species alike. She figures turian, mostly, because she highly doubts a krogan would ever have a reason to make it up to the Spiritus Sol CEO's office, but she doesn't want to outright leave out the possibility.

Mrs. Malolin sits at her desk, but Aurelius decides to remain standing a short distance behind her. He isn't hovering, but the message is clear. He's here to defend Mrs. Malolin should the shit hit the fan. Not that Jane expects it to, though. Sure, there's the possibility that Malolin might call for authorities to arrest the proclaimed war criminals and rogue Spectres that just walked into her office of their own free will.

_And even if it goes bad, it's not like we'll turn our weapons on her without cause. Now, if they decide we're better off as target practice than business partners …._

Jane decides they'll cross that bridge if and when they get to it.

"I guess I'll be the first to say that I hadn't expected to receive a message over a possible contract with well known war heroes." Mrs. Malolin sets her clasped hands on her desk, expression professional, but wary. "However, you must see where I'm coming from when I say I have reservations about conducting any business with mercenaries knowingly."

Jane huffs a weak laugh, tilting her head at the truth of it. "Yeah, but you haven't called for authorities - that we know of - so you must be willing to hear us out."

Mrs. Malolin's expression shifts slightly, as if in consideration of something. "Mrs. Vakarian, I know about politics to know that what the galaxy hears is not the complete truth. I find it hard to see two people responsible for saving the galaxy and immediately thinking of all the charges the Council has against you." She lets out a soft breath. "But you haven't outright denied being mercenaries - even made it clear when you reached out to me - so I'm cautious. First of all, I can't associate Spiritus Sol with anything or anyone illegal-"

A loud squeal comes from behind Jane and she jumps in surprise, but Garrus growls and immediately stands, spinning towards the perceived danger. Looking back, though, Jane only finds their daughter standing in the small seating area, leaning towards a picture frame with a huge grin on her face. Jane and her husband share a confused look, but relax as Cassia looks to them with a happy trill before her attention moves to Mrs. Malolin.

"Is this a dog?" Cassia asks, her voice high like it usually is when she's excited as she points to a picture.

Mrs. Malolin chuckles, her smile amused. "I think? I'm not sure what picture you're pointing at." Her smile softens. "You can pick it up. It's okay."

Chirping, Cassia delicately picks up the light wooden frame and holds it close as she brings it over. When Mrs. Malolin takes it, she chuckles again and her smile warms. "Yes, that's a dog. Her name is Buttons. She's a pomeranian," she adds as she hands the picture back.

"Oh, I bet she's so soft," Cassia says with a thrum and smile as she offers the picture to Jane.

Jane grins in amusement over her daughter's excitement and glances at the photo of Mrs. Malolin, General Malolin, two young turians - golden and light brown - and one blonde, human girl holding a literal ball of fur in her arms. The 'pomeranian' is something Jane hasn't seen before, but there's a little face amongst the golden fur, and by the looks of it, she can tell why Cassia was attracted so much to it. Cassia has always been in love with animals and those she deems 'cute' attract her like bees to honey.

"Your family, I take it?" Jane asks as she takes a look at the picture once more before offering it to Garrus. When Mrs. Malolin gets that soft, maternal joy to them, Jane smiles. "They're cute."

"That's an old picture," Mrs. Malolin says with a small laugh. "I'm afraid they're not so small anymore. Brutus, my son with the sepia colored plates, is twenty-two years old and Caius is seventeen. Our daughter, Eva, is fifteen now." She watches Garrus gives Cassia back the picture. "We adopted Brutus during the civil discourse on Taetrus and my youngest are part of that new Chier initiative," she starts, chuckling, "Well, I guess not  _that_ new given their ages."

Ever since the twins, Jane admits she's kept an eye out for anything concerning the science of creating hybrids that didn't result in imprisonment or the scientists' escape into the Terminus. For the sake of her children's lives, she hopes there could be a way to prove they were just created through legal means before the technique was well known. It might lead to some kind of trouble, but she knows it'd all be less than a discovery of their true nature, of being true hybrids caring human and turian genes. She can't imagine the lives her children live, always hiding for fear of becoming likely test subjects.

At least, if they were Chiers, they wouldn't need to fear because they'd be full turian with just some genetic modifications to show some of her much like Mrs. Malolin's children share her blonde hair and - for her turian son - golden plates. Their daughter's red eyes must have been from her father. Jane's sure Damocles would be much happier as a Chier, but Jane can't go back and stop Cerberus from putting Reaper tech in her. Nor would she really want to now that she truly knows what it's like to be the mother of her wonderful twins. Despite their hardships, Jane hopes her children are just as grateful to exist as she is, even if it doesn't always seem like it.

Jane tries for something more friendly as she jokes, "So I take it you recommend it?"

"Absolutely," Mrs. Malolin responds, smile seemingly more genuine. "The technology for it is more accepted now. The initiative got off to the rocky start because of all the laws against hybridization, but looking back now, I don't regret the fact that they bent some rules to give me my children."

Jane huffs a weak laugh and picks at the edge of the plush cushioning on her chair's armrest. "Yeah … I guess we should probably get to explaining ourselves." She offers Mrs. Malolin an encouraging smile. "I get that you're worried about us being mercs, but we aren't like the others."

Rumbling, Garrus nods and looks from Jane to Mrs. Malolin. "You're right to believe that politics have painted a certain image of us. We did things for the Council and know things that wouldn't be the best for the galaxy but had to be done." He shakes his head and pulls his mandibles to his jaw. "We were tired, ma'am-"

"Please," Mrs. Malolin says softly, offering a sympathetic look, "I think we're getting to the point where you can call me Gwen."

Jane smiles a bit and nods. "Then you can call us by our names too." Sighing, she leans back in her seat and lifts her eyes to the expanse of Eden Prime over Gwen's shoulder. "What Garrus says is true. We just wanted to be left alone to live our retirement, but they wouldn't let us." Her gaze falls on the woman and Jane's jaw clenches at the way she and her family were treated. "The Council used are kids against us. They were infants and the Council threatened to dig deeper into how we had them and where they came from." Looking back to her daughter, Jane motions Cassia to come closer, taking a step towards trusting this woman in hopes they'll be believed. "Our children are hybrids too, but not in the same way."

Cassia nods and holds up her five fingered hand and Gwen shows sincere curiosity and surprise, but Jane's happy to see that the woman doesn't outright show sign of pressing the issue. Aurelius also watches Cassia as she wiggles her fingers, but only makes a soft rumble of interest as Cassia chuckles softly and drops her hand.

Jane huffs a soft laugh at the show and tell, raising a hand to Cassia's in silent thanks. Her daughter purrs and smiles before Jane turns back to Gwen. "I don't know the science, but Cassia and her brother are true - and illegal - hybrids. We didn't do it purposely just to screw with the Council," she says, lifting her gaze to her daughter as Cassia gives them all space and returns to looking over Gwen's family photos, "But I can't say we weren't going to fight to keep them a secret once they were born."

"We could only do that by keeping them away from the spotlight, out of the Council's sights." Garrus growls softly and lowers his gaze as he shakes his head once. "We couldn't just walk away, not with being war heroes hovering over our heads. The Council wouldn't let us be," he says, lifting his gaze to Gwen, then Aurelius, "So we got out. We pulled out of Council space."

Jane nods, expression serious as she looks between the two people before her. "We aren't like the other merc bands. We're only like them by the fact that we do work we choose to do and get credits as payment, no higher power to answer to."

Gwen's brows tense a moment as she seems to consider that and Garrus sits up straighter in his seat, gaining that bit of height in the way Jane's come to see as him gearing up for battle. This one just so happens to be in an office with words as his weapons.

"We don't transport drugs, sell illegal weapons, shake people down, pirate ships, or deal with slavers. Our biggest work comes from cleaning up the messes polite society tries to ignore," he says, motioning the window with a hand. "Say someone commits a heinous crime on Eden Prime, but escapes prosecution, disappears into the vast darkness of space. Imagine that person still out there beyond any legitimate means' reach? You can't afford to send out people to hunt them down, but you  _can_ hire us."

Aurelius finally steps forward to speak. "So, you're bounty hunters," he says with a raised brow plate. "What do you do with the people you catch?"

"Depends on what the bounty says," Jane says, shrugging at the cold truth of it. "Sometimes we're hired to clean up any traces because the bastard wouldn't be put away long enough - if at all - if you follow proper protocol and sometimes we find a way to send them in without giving too much about our company away. If you consider it," she adds, looking to Aurelius, "We're still doing quite a bit of what we did before, only now no one has to claim responsibility for sending us out to get the bad guys. We're cleaning up the galaxy behind the curtains. Only bonus is we get paid to do it."

Gwen looks at Aurelius before nodding to Jane. "Well, I'm sure people wouldn't be looking to hire you unless it would ultimately mean taking someone really dangerous out of the galaxy. I don't like the possibility of you playing judge, jury, and executioner, but I get that it isn't that simple." She takes a deep breath, seemingly to mull it over. "Is that all your mercenary company does?"

Garrus hums and shakes his head once again. "No. We work as bodyguards, transport security, cheap transport of products or people." He flicks his mandibles and gives Gwen a stern rumble in his vocals, "We don't do anything that could harm innocent people. Jane and I have set rules for The Wraiths and the work we take up. Anyone who goes against it is immediately stripped of their association and exiled."

Gwen drums her fingers on her desk once before giving an understanding nod. "I guess I should at least hear you out before making a decision. It only seems fair," she says, smiling softly though with a hint of reservation. "You don't seem like you're running a company like the Blue Suns or something, but you have to understand I can't really have Spiritus Sol be connected to any company that falls under the definition. There's just a bad taste with the word whether or not you're doing something illegal."

"Understandable," Garrus agrees, looking to Jane as if in question. She knows what he intends to offer and sees that it could help Gwen see their side so she nods. Rumbling softly, he smiles at her before turning back to Gwen. "We're ready to offer something in trade for the contract we're wanting." He opens his tool and flips the readout to show Gwen a readout of a newly designed mod from the Wraiths' R&D sector. "We can trade blueprints for mods that would otherwise be considered illegal because of the dangers of development. We've already gone through the prototypes and testing stages, clearing it for safe manufacture and use." With a flick of his wrist, he sends the blueprint for one of their simpler mods. "We didn't expect you to accept the proposal without seeing this offer too."

Jane nods, watching Gwen as she opens the file on her terminal and looks it over. "We do the dangerous development stages and you get to manufacture them for yourself."

Gwen arches a brow. "You know that you're technically agreeing to give the rights to Spiritus Sol Armory to manufacture and distribute this tech, right? I mean, I can see how we'll be able to file the proper patents without any trouble for us, but you wouldn't be making a profit."

"That's fine," Jane says, scooting to the edge of her seat to get closer. "It's not like we're sending all our designs over, but you can distribute the ones we have no problem making their way into mass production."

Gwen chuckles. "Keeping the best for yourselves," she says and grins when Jane smiles and shrugs.

"Always have to be a step ahead of the common criminal who can just walk into a distributor and buy a mod made from our design."

Garrus hums and closes his omni-tool. "And we plan to enhance and work on the equipment we get from you, so we'd be open to sharing any possible developments on those as well."

"Still," Gwen starts, flipping through her terminal's interface, "Asking for a twelve percent decrease of wholesale price is pushing it. We sell high quality weapons and armor and you haven't guaranteed a set number of mod designs you're offering."

Jane looks to her husband, completely lost on business tactics, but he nods in reassurance and says, "We understand. We can guarantee a new development - either as equipment or mods - at least bi-monthly. You'll be making a lot more than the twelve percent we're asking."

"Right," Jane agrees, deciding to throw something else in the discussion, "And the Wraiths plan to switch all our equipment to Spiritus Sol weapons and armor." She doesn't speak about the very likely possibility that the Wraiths won't just wear off the shelf equipment without making their own adjustments and additions. "So you'll have a long lasting contract with us. We have a lot of men, so I can promise that you'll be getting a hell of a lot of orders for shipments."

"Which brings up the next issue," Gwen says as she turns her complete attention back to Jane and Garrus. "We can't deliver to 'The Wraiths' or have any kind of legal agreement about this. I can't let Spiritus Sol be found in association in any way."

"We agree," Garrus says, rumbling in agreement. "We can't have an official papertrail that could connect the two of us, but your ships will need a manifest. For each order, we will leave a destination well within what would be any other normal delivery, whether it be one of our storefronts or an individual. That's all that's needed on your part, everything else for us will happen through numerous trade offs and drops until finally making it to our actual location."

Jane can tell Gwen's considering the idea as the woman looks over Jane and her husband before glancing towards Cassia and back. Finally, after a long moment that seems to weigh heavy in the air, Gwen smiles softly and nods. "Okay. I think we can make this work." She chuckles lightly when Jane drops her jaw in surprise. "Don't look so surprised," Gwen says, shaking her head in amusement. "I can't say I expected all this when I heard you wanted to meet, but I get it. I get where you're coming from even if I can't imagine being in your shoes. I respect you both for what you did for the galaxy and I'm mad  _for you_ over how the Council treated you. A lot of what you said sounds probable, so I don't doubt that they'd do something like that." She lifts her hand, palm up as she shrugs. "I know it's not much, but I can at least help you by accepting. I mean," she adds, chuckling, "It's not like I'm not getting anything out of it."

Jane chuckles and nods. "Yeah, we wouldn't expect charity."

"Good," Gwen jokes with a smirk and scoots her chair towards her terminal. "Now, let's draw up a contract that we can transfer to your and my person." She types quickly, glancing towards Garrus and Jane. "We might not put it into the books, but I want to keep a copy for myself and I'm sure you'll want to keep one for yourself too."

Garrus rumbles in the affirmative as Jane nods and scoots closer to him. She can't say that she expected this meeting to turn out as it did, even a small part of her concerned it might turn into a bloodbath of self-righteousness as people tried to arrest her and Garrus.

 _It's a nice feeling to know that there are people at least out there willing to listen to our side of the stories, let alone_ _ **believe** _ _us._


End file.
